Spire of Shadows

by Sarah Hawke

  “The Tel Bator will soon be reborn in sacred flame,” Jessara said. “The Guardian’s power flows through my father into me…and soon, it will flow into—”

  The sudden knock at the door nearly gave Rohen a heart attack. He turned his head, shocked and mortified, as Jess’s face twisted into a scowl.

  “I told you that I was not to be disturbed!” she snarled.

  “I-I know, Inquisitrix, but I’m afraid this cannot wait,” a man’s voice said from outside. “There is trouble in the forge.”

  Jess hissed as she sat upright, and Rohen groaned when his manhood slipped out of her. “Trouble?” she asked, swinging her legs off the bed and standing. “What trouble?”

  “I am not certain, my lady, but Foundry Master Gabron requested your aid in dealing with the High Artificer.”

  “Oh, by the bloody…” Jess seethed in place for a moment, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “Very well. Tell Gabron I’ll meet him in the Foundry in a few minutes.”

  “Yes, Inquisitrix.”

  Rohen shook his head. “What is this about?”

  “A problem I thought I’d solved,” she said, reaching for her clothes. She paused, panties in hand, and eyed his naked body up and down before she began unfastening his restraints. “Get dressed. You’re coming with me.”

  Rohen swallowed, torn between renewed anxiety and relief at being freed. “Jess, I need to know more about—”

  “I’ll tell you everything later,” she said, her mood shifting from playful back to imperious in the span of a few heartbeats. “I promised my father that nothing would interfere with the Purges, and I’m not about to disappoint him.”

  He braced himself. This was it—this was exactly what he had come here to stop. Except now, he didn’t just need to convince Jess that her father had orchestrated the murder of the High King—he needed to figure out how in the bloody void the Lord Protector had gained this unfathomable power.

  Fuck, I should have left when I had the chance. I could have already been halfway back to the damn Deadwood by now…

  “Come on, get up,” Jess said, throwing his trousers onto his head. “Don’t worry, you’ll be naked and properly restrained again soon, I promise.”

  ***

  The stairwell at the center of the tower was far larger and wider than the ones on the fringes, which Rohen had always found a little peculiar. Perhaps the Avetharri elves had designed it this way to make moving furniture easier…or perhaps their slaves had included bulkier creatures like gnolls or minotaur. Whatever the case might have been, he couldn’t help but admire the eternal smoothness of the walls and steps. The stone was thousands of years old, yet it looked as pristine as if it had just been laid yesterday.

  The Spire artificers were beneath ground level, all the way in the bowels of the tower, though Rohen could hear the pounding of hammers on steel long before they arrived. The temperature seemed to rise a few degrees with every step down; by the time they drew close, he almost wished he had left his brigandine back in Jess’s quarters. A wave of heat greeted him in the doorway when they finally arrived, and he braced himself for the worst.

  “Three decades of complacency have left the smiths woefully unprepared,” Jess said as she led him inside the vast, sprawling forge. “In the old days, there were dozens of artificers with the skill and knowledge to craft a Faceless shell in short order. Only a few still recall the technique.”

  Rohen nodded as he swept his gaze across the chamber. The Foundry was divided into several distinct sections on multiple floors, and most of the actual artificers like Sehris worked in smaller, sectioned-off alcoves where they could craft runes or enchant weapons in relative isolation. The forge was far more open—and much louder. He counted almost a dozen smelters scattered across the wide, circular chamber, all currently blazing orange as they liquefied steel and poured the scalding metal into molds. A veritable army of smiths stood over the many anvils, hammering the steel plates into shape.

  The sight should have been impressive. Almost every enchanted item in Darenthi from wraithblades to calling crystals was created right here, after all, and Rohen had always found metallurgy fascinating. But right now, his eyes refused to leave the polished black suit of plate armor mounted on a stand right next to the stairwell.

  Soon enough, some hapless sorcerer will be locked inside that shell forever. They’ll scream and scream while an artificer—a fellow sorcerer—binds their consciousness to the armor and sears their flesh into the steel.

  “It’s too bad that dark elf friend of yours isn’t here yet,” Jess said, stopping and admiring the armor.

  “What?” Rohen asked, his heart skipping a beat.

  “She’s one of most skilled artificers in the Spire. She obviously wasn’t trained in the Purging techniques, but I’ve no doubt she can learn quicker than most.”

  The thought still made Rohen want to retch, but he ordered himself to relax. “Right.”

  Jess arched a black eyebrow at him. “I’m not going to stick her in a shell. She’s young and skilled. And more importantly, she’s obedient. If her peers were half as cooperative, we wouldn’t even need the bloody Keepers.”

  She stared at him for several seconds, her lip curling in amusement at his obvious discomfort.

  “The overprotective Templar, always loyal to his friends,” Jess said with a smirk. “The Guardian really does work through you, doesn’t he?”

  “I’d like to think so,” Rohen murmured.

  “You will feel the full radiance of his light soon. I can’t wait to see how powerful you become.”

  Rohen swallowed. “Jess, about your father…”

  “I will explain everything later, I promise,” she said with a smile. She squeezed his arm, then shifted her gaze to the opposite side of the forge and beckoned him on. “As I said, nearly all of the original artificers who were familiar with golem crafting either died during the rebellion or in the decades since. There is only one true expert on the Faceless ritual left in the Galespire, and he has been…obstinate.”

  “The High Artificer,” Rohen said. “Sehris has mentioned him before, but I’m afraid I don’t know much about him.”

  “His name is Korran. He’s a stubborn old man the Lord Vigilant should have dealt with years ago.”

  “Where is Lord Arinthal, anyway?” Rohen asked. “If there’s a problem here, shouldn’t he be told about it?”

  The corner of her mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. “My father placed me in charge of the Foundry. The Lord Vigilant has…other responsibilities.”

  Rohen frowned. Her father was the lord of the Templar, not the Keepers—he had no authority to put her in charge of anything here. Why would the Lord Vigilant comply with an order like that?

  “The High Artificer initially refused my father’s request to begin construction on new Faceless shells,” Jessara went on as they passed yet another smelter. “When the Keepers activated his Brand, he eventually capitulated—or at least, they thought he capitulated. Evidently, he spent the next day and a half trying to sabotage our efforts. I ordered the Keepers to isolate the old fool before his disobedience spread, but I fear I’ll just have to make an example of him after all.”

  “I see,” Rohen whispered, a dark chill tingling down his spine. She said the words so casually…he almost didn’t want to know what she planned. Sehris had always spoken very fondly of High Artificer Korran, and Rohen hadn’t even considered the lack of institutional knowledge here in the Galespire.

  Maybe this is the opening I’ve been waiting for. If they can’t even start the Purges without Korran, then he may be the most important man in this whole damn tower…

  “We cannot afford any delays, especially if Rimewreath has fallen,” Jessara said. “Tor’s Crossing has no defenses to speak of, and the garrison at Nythovas is only up to half strength at best. We need to buy ourselves time.”

  The heat grew more intense as they crossed the forge, and Rohen couldn’t help but notice the wary
looks the apron-clad smiths were casting him. They appeared almost as scared of him as they did of Jess; they probably assumed he was here on behalf of the Templar. None of them were sorcerers, as far as he knew, but if they worked here in the Foundry, they obviously interacted with the artificers quite often. They were probably concerned for the wellbeing of their friends and comrades. Crafting enchanted rings and weapons was a lot different than forging suits of armor for the damned.

  This is exactly what caused the rebellion thirty years ago. The Seven finally stood up for their comrades trapped in the Spire. I wonder how much more sympathy they might have engendered if they’d gone to the tharns instead of immediately reaching out to the Crell Sovereigns for help.

  Jess led them to a metal door on the opposite side of the forge where a single Keeper was currently standing guard. They were far enough away from the orange glow of the molten steel that the long shadows made his gray-blue armor appear almost black. Rohen had never met the man before, but he recognized the Foundry Master purely by description.

  “Inquisitrix,” Gabron said with a crisp nod. “I apologize for sending a messenger to disturb you, but you said you wanted to be informed if—”

  “The artificer is in there?” Jess interrupted.

  “Uh, y-yes,” Gabron stammered, gesturing to the door behind him. “I assumed you wouldn’t want him in the dungeon since—”

  “What about the Brand?” she pressed. “The Watcher gave you a leash. Why haven’t you pulled it?”

  Rohen watched in quiet awe as the tall, powerfully built man in armor wilted beneath the glare of a woman half his age and a third his bulk. It wasn’t merely that she was a Sanctori Inquisitrix or the child of the Lord Protector—Jess’s intense voice and crazy eyes would have been almost as intimidating if she had been a farmer’s daughter.

  “Korran refused to cooperate even after I triggered the Brand,” Gabron explained. “In his own words, he would rather die from the Flensing than forge another Faceless shell.”

  Jess scoffed contemptuously. “Self-sacrifice is easy. Thankfully, there are other ways to motivate stubborn men. Open the door.”

  The Foundry Master nodded and did as he was told. Thanks to the sudden rush at the forge, the supply room on the other side had been almost completely cleaned out. The only things left were rusted tools, half-opened crates, and a thin, elderly man kneeling in the middle of the floor with his hands tied behind his back.

  Jess calmly sauntered inside and glared down at Korran as if he were filth she had just kicked from the bottom of her shoes. Korran’s sweaty, stubble-pocked face winced at the sudden flash of light into the dark room. He had been stripped of his bright blue Spire robes and left in his haggard smallclothes, and a dark latticework of angry veins was still visible beneath his neck and arms. The Keepers must have triggered his Brand within the past half hour or so, otherwise the lingering effects of the Flensing wouldn’t be so obvious.

  “Well, old man, it seems you’ve decided not to cooperate after all,” Jess said. “I must say, I am rather disappointed.”

  “You’ll live,” Korran croaked.

  “I will, yes. The question is whether or not you will serve the will of the gods in life or suffer for eternity behind the walls of the Pale.”

  The High Artificer snorted and coughed. “You can’t scare me, Sanctori bitch. No one else here knows what I know. If you kill me, it will be months before a single golem takes the field. The Chol will burn this wretched place to cinders long before then.”

  “How noble of you to wish a brutal death upon all your peers,” Jess sneered. “Is that really what you want?”

  “What I want is for you people to keep your promise,” he said. “No more Seven, no more Faceless—that was the deal.”

  Jess shrugged. “You know what they say about desperate times. The situation is even worse than we thought. Templar Velis here watched as the Chol annihilated Rimewreath just a few days ago. The Pact Army is gone—there is nothing standing between the horde and the rest of Darenthi.”

  Korran’s cheek twitched as his eyes flicked over to Rohen. “The Templar are supposed to stop the Cullings,” he said. “Not us.”

  “And they will, as long as we buy them a little more time,” Jess said. “I told you before, old man: I have no interest in rounding up your people and forcing them into the armor. Plenty of your comrades have already leapt at the opportunity to seek redemption in the eyes of the gods.”

  Korran scoffed so hard it broke into another cough. “I’ve seen what happens when the Keepers run out of ‘volunteers.’ I will not allow that to happen again.”

  “You won’t allow it?” Jess snarled. “You are a sorcerer! You are only alive thanks to the infinite mercy and forgiveness of the gods. It is your duty to—”

  “Duty?” Korran spat. “Duty to what? Peasants who want to cast us onto the pyre? Tharns who treat us like slaves? Gods who stay silent when monsters ravage the world?”

  “The gods will speak clearly enough once we have cleansed the world of sin,” Jess said, jutting a golden-tipped claw at him. “Starting with sorcerers who refuse to seek redemption.”

  This time, the High Artificer just chuckled. “The gods abandoned this world a long time ago. The Tel Bator can play pretend all you like, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re alone. The gods don’t give a fuck about you. They never have.”

  Jess’s amber eyes blazed so brightly Rohen was surprised the old man didn’t spontaneously combust. This may have been the first time in his life he had ever seen her genuinely stricken speechless.

  “Torture me, Flense me, threaten me with eternal damnation—I don’t care,” Korran said. “This Foundry will never forge another Faceless. That secret dies with me, you self-righteous cunt. You might as well run back to your daddy now.”

  “Wretch!” Forge Master Gabron shouted from the doorway. He tapped the Eye of the Watcher on his gauntlet, and Korran instantly screamed and toppled to the floor as his Brand was activated.

  “Wait!” Jess snapped, holding up a claw-tipped finger. “Turn that thing off.”

  “Y-yes, Inquisitrix,” the Keeper said. He tapped the gauntlet again, and the blue vatari tattoos beneath Korran’s flesh started to fade as quickly as they appeared.

  “P-pain w-won’t get you what you w-want, bitch,” Korran stuttered defiantly.

  “You’re right about that, at least,” Jess said. “Thankfully, I now have other means of acquiring the information I desire…”

  She spread open the fingers of her right hand, and a brilliant, searing ball of energy materialized in her palm. The High Artificer’s eyes widened in shock…and then in dread.

  “You are the one who is alone with your sins, sorcerer,” Jess said. “And if you refuse to seek redemption, I will simply have to punish you instead.”

  A beam of pure golden radiance erupted from her palm and washed over Korran. He screamed like a vampire trapped in a ray of sunlight, and after few seconds, Rohen swore he could actually hear the man’s flesh sizzling…

  “What are you…?” Korran cried, his entire body convulsing in a seizure.

  “The Moonmaiden’s light reveals all truths,” Jess said, smiling. “You are no longer special, don’t you see? The gods have granted their faithful the power to purify and redeem this world…starting with ungrateful wretches like you.”

  The beam of light shined even brighter, forcing Rohen to squint and look away. I have to do something! I have to stop this…

  “I no longer need to rely on you for anything, Artificer,” Jess said. “I can create the Faceless myself if necessary—all I need to do is tear the secrets of their construction from your feeble mind.”

  Korran’s screams of agony echoed out of the small storage room and across the whole Foundry. The nauseating sizzling sound was unmistakable now—as was the acrid stench of his flesh slowly burning away.

  “Jess, stop!” Rohen shouted.

  He wasn’t even sure if she heard him.
The brilliant beam of light reflecting in her eyes made it appear like they were glowing, and a dark smile stretched across her lips as she channeled more and more power through her body…

  “Jess!” Rohen pleaded, grabbing her arm and pulling it down. The instant the beam shifted away from Korran’s body, he stilled on the floor, steam rising from his red flesh.

  “What in the bloody void are you doing?” she snarled.

  “He’s had enough!” Rohen told her. “You don’t need to kill him.”

  Her blazing eyes bored into him. “I brought you here to help, not to interfere! What is wrong with you?”

  “Please, we need to talk,” he said, holding up his hands defensively. “Just for a few minutes—in private.”

  For an instant, he thought Jess might actually slap him. Her eyes looked as feral as a tigress interrupted in the middle of her meal…but thankfully, her humanity finally reasserted itself. The sphere of energy slowly faded in her palm, and she scowled as she turned back to the whimpering, sizzling old man trembling on the floor.

  “This had better be good,” she bit out. “I don’t appreciate being interrupted while I work.”

  “I know,” Rohen said, swallowing and praying he hadn’t made yet another mistake. “Please, just give me a few minutes, all right?”

  Jess swiveled her glare to Gabron in the doorway. “Pick up this wretch and get him to the infirmary. I want his wounds bound—he’s not allowed to die just yet.”

  “Y-yes, my lady Inquisitrix,” the man babbled as he scurried over to the artificer and dragged his smoldering body off the floor. The horror in the old man’s eyes was unlike anything Rohen had ever seen before, even in the faces of men who were about to confront the Chol.

  “You’re lucky I still have plans for you tonight,” Jess said once they were alone. “I’ve gelded men for less.”